Oh you gatherer
of the fine ash of poetry
ash of the too-white flame
of poetry
...
Long long I lay in the sands
Sounds of trains in the surf
in subways of the sea
...
I didn’t get much sleep last night
thinking about underwear
Have you ever stopped to consider
underwear in the abstract
...
Poets, come out of your closets,
Open your windows, open your doors,
You have been holed-up too long
in your closed worlds.
...
The great Chinese dragon which is the greatest dragon in all the
world and which once upon a time was towed across the
Pacific by a crew of coolies rowing in an open boat—was
the first real live dragon ever actually to reach these shores
...
The pennycandystore beyond the El
is where I first
fell in love
with unreality
...
A poet is born
A poet dies
And all that lies between
is us
...
The changing light
at San Francisco
is none of your East Coast light
none of your
...
One grand boulevard with trees
with one grand cafe in sun
with strong black coffee in very small cups.
...
Driving a cardboard automobile without a license
at the turn of the century
my father ran into my mother
on a fun-ride at Coney Island
...